


That's No Way to Say Goodbye

by fiddleyoumust



Series: Putting Out the Lantern [2]
Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-29
Updated: 2010-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-14 05:10:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiddleyoumust/pseuds/fiddleyoumust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Everything is changing," Brendon says softly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's No Way to Say Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a sequel to a fic that can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/145256).

Spencer's cell phone wakes him up, and he reaches for it, bleary-eyed and still half-asleep. The backlight on the LCD hurts his eyes a little, but he still manages to smile when he sees Ryan's name on the screen.

Spencer grunts into the phone.

"It's happening," Ryan says.

Spencer says, "We're on our way."

It ends up taking half an hour to get to the hospital. Brendon is cranky when his sleep gets interrupted, and Spencer ends up having to practically dress him.

The hospital is freezing, making Spencer's glad he grabbed a hoodie. He's only sorry he didn't think to grab two, because he's going to be cold later when Brendon is finally awake enough to steal it from him. Spencer wishes he had built up a better tolerance to Brendon's bottom lip, but at least for now, he's warm.

"Is Jon coming?" Brendon asks sleepily. He lays his head on Spencer's shoulder and closes his eyes.

"I don't know," Spencer says.

He assumes Ryan's called him. He assumes Jon and Cassie are both en route to the airport right now, Jon a little slow from being roused out of bed in the middle of the night. He can imagine Cassie suggesting he go grab a cup of coffee from the Starbucks kiosk on their way through the airport, and he knows Jon will grab Cassie a vanilla latte too, just because.

"I'm sure he's on his way," Spencer says, and his breath makes Brendon's hair move a little bit. Brendon nods, but he doesn't open his eyes.

It takes four more hours, and Jon and Cassie still haven't shown up, but Spencer talked to Jon on the phone an hour ago and they're on their way. They should be here any minute.

Ryan looks tired when he comes out into the hallway, but he smiles when he sees Spencer and Brendon.

"We have a daughter," Ryan says, and he looks scared, a little awestruck. Spencer's face hurts from smiling, and he's afraid he might snap Ryan in half when he hugs him, but he can't help squeezing him hard.

"Congratulations," Brendon says as he moves in for his own hug and Spencer asks, "How's Keltie?"

"She's fine. She's amazing. She's like..." Ryan runs his long fingers through his hair and shakes his head. "I don't know, man. There's no way in hell I could do that. I could barely even watch it."

Brendon nods, and Spencer gives Ryan's back a friendly pat. "When can we see them?" Spencer asks.

"Umm... Keltie's arguing with a nurse about whether or not they're going to let her shower, but I think we can see the baby soon," Ryan says.

"What's her name?" Brendon asks.

Ryan bites on his bottom lip to try and curb what is probably the biggest smile Spencer has ever seen. "I want to name her Echo and Keltie wants to name her Jude, so we haven't decided yet," Ryan says.

Spencer and Brendon look at each other. Brendon smiles, and pats Ryan on the back and says, "So Jude Colleen-Ross, huh?"

Ryan sighs and says, "Yeah," defeated, but happy.

 

They're all at Ryan's condo, the whole family, and some of Keltie's too. Jon is currently cooing at baby Jude in one of Ryan's ridiculous antique chairs. Spencer can't quite wrap his mind around the fact that Ryan is a father. In Spencer's head neither of them has aged much past sixteen.

"This is a cute kid," Jon says to no one in particular.

Keltie looks over and arches an eye brow. "Did you doubt she would be? Look at her fucking adorable parents," she says.

Spencer laughs, and Brendon says, "I guess we have to start watching our language now, huh?"

Keltie smiles at him fondly and says, "We have some time before she'll start parroting things back at us. We can start one of those cursing jars and give Jude the money to pay for college."

"She'll be fucking rich," Spencer says.

Keltie holds out her hand and says, "Oh, Uncle Spencer's donating the first buck."

Spencer laughs and pulls out his wallet.

 

Later, after everyone's gone to bed, the four of them go out in the backyard and sit around in lawn chairs. Ryan lights up a joint with Jon, and Spencer wonders how he's even still fertile after all these years. He doesn't say anything, though, just passes the joint to Brendon without taking a hit when it comes his way. Brendon looks at it for a second, and then shrugs his shoulders and takes a drag.

"So I was thinking maybe we could take a break," Ryan says as he exhales. He's not looking at any of them. His head is tilted up, and he's squinting at the moon a little.

Spencer's been waiting for this. Jon and Cassie have been talking marriage for more than a year now, and Cassie has a teaching job in Chicago that limits how often she can come out on the road with them. Keltie's job had given her a little bit more leeway, but Spencer knew things would change when she found out she was pregnant. He's actually surprised they haven't had this conversation sooner.

"What kind of a break?" Spencer asks. He keeps it light, because as much as it scares him to think about breaks and break-ups, this isn't entirely his decision. Plus, he knows he's lucky. He knows that every time they pack up to spend a few months on the road, the person he wants to be with most in the world is coming with him.

Brendon twines their fingers together like he knows exactly what Spencer is thinking, and Spencer squeezes a little until Brendon smiles at him. His stomach smooths out then, and his nervousness leaves him. No matter what happens next, he knows deep down that he'll never really lose any of them.

"I still want to make music," Ryan says. "But, Keltie wants to get her dance studio up and running, and she's already taken half a year off to have the baby. She needs to get back in there, and I don't want Jude to be with strangers. I certainly don't want her traveling around with us on a crappy bus from city to city."

Jon nods. "I could use a break," he says and there's something in his voice that worries Spencer.

"Everything okay over there, Jon Walker?" Spencer asks.

Jon shrugs and takes a final drag off the roach they're still passing around. "Cassie and I have been talking about marriage and kids, or well, Cassie has tabled the marriage and kids conversation indefinitely due to my 'unstable' lifestyle. So, a break would be good. I think a break would help a lot."

Spencer doesn't know what to say, but Jon looks sad and that's something he's never been able to stand, so he gets up and stands behind Jon to rub his shoulders for a bit. "I'm up for whatever. If you two need a break, we take a break."

Brendon stays unusually quiet, his hands clasped together and his eyes trained on the ground.

"Brendon?" Ryan asks, his voice laced with concern. "Share some of those thoughts with the rest of the class."

Brendon looks up then and gives Ryan a small smile. "Everything is changing," Brendon says softly.

Ryan nods and says, "Things do," and then he smiles at Brendon and Spencer, his eyes flicking between them.

Brendon says, "I've been thinking about doing some solo stuff." It hangs between them like a bubble floating in the air for a moment, before Jon coughs a little and the moment is gone.

Spencer knows that every idea that Brendon has is always immediately followed by a bout of self-doubt so profound that most of the time, he won't even mention what's going on inside his head until one of the three of them pulls it out. Spencer's gotten good at being as aware of Brendon's ever changing moods as he is of his own.

Brendon says, "I mean, not without talking to you guys about it first, but if we're not going to be making music together for a while, I'll have some time, and I ..."

"It'll be amazing," Jon says, interrupting Brendon's word vomit.

Brendon ducks his head and runs his fingers through his hair nervously. "So, you guys wouldn't mind?"

Ryan says, "You don't need our permission, Bren."

Brendon looks up at that, and something Spencer can't decipher passes between them. It's a little unsettling that Spencer can't understand it when he knows the both of them better than he knows anyone.

"No," Brendon says. "I don't, but I wouldn't mind having your support."

Ryan smiles and says, "You always have that. No matter what."

 

Spencer really likes his life, but he knows the transition from tour break to indefinite break isn't going to be easy. He and Brendon have a routine that mostly consists of touring, with a week here -- or if they're lucky -- an entire month there of being home and watching television and catching up with family. It's their down time, their time to be away from each other after being stuck on a bus with one another for months at a time. Brendon will often go spend days and days at his brothers' or sisters' houses, playing with his nieces and nephews and getting the full report on the Urie family happenings while he was away.

Spencer lets his mom do his laundry. He paints the guest bathroom a pale blue. He plays the drums in his and Brendon's music room until his eardrums are ringing. If he gets lonely, he calls Brendon and tells him to come home.

"I made breakfast," Brendon says on a Sunday. Spencer knows it's Sunday because the paper on the table is unusually large.

Spencer blinks, because there are pancakes and syrup and butter on the table, too, and it's weird _because_ it's Sunday. That means Brendon shouldn't be here. "Aren't you supposed to be with your family?" Spencer asks.

"I want to work on music today," Brendon says. He smiles and kicks Spencer's chair away from the table with his foot. "Anyway, I am with my family," Brendon continues. "Sit and eat. I didn't burn them this time." Brendon holds his hands above his head in triumph, and Spencer suddenly really wants to kiss him.

"I have to do something first," Spencer says, crossing over to Brendon. Brendon's eyes light up, and he tips his head back in anticipation. Brendon's mouth is warm and sleepy. His cheeks and chin are rough with stubble, and Spencer figures it's been at least three days since Brendon last shaved.

He slides his fingers into Spencer's hair and tugs on the ends a little, until Spencer groans and deepens the kiss. When he pulls his mouth away Brendon says, "Hi," and then he smiles, wicked and beautiful, and dips his finger into a puddle of syrup on the plate in front of him.

Brendon brushes his finger across Spencer's bottom lip, and Spencer's tongue slides out and follows the line of Brendon's finger. Brendon closes his eyes and kisses Spencer hard on the mouth, licking the syrup his finger left behind.

Spencer pulls away, only to slide to his knees between Brendon's spread legs. Brendon looks down at him, his cheeks flushed and his eyes hooded and dark. Spencer hooks his fingers into the waist of Brendon's jeans and waits for Brendon to lift his hips off the chair. He slides Brendon's pants down and off, licks the head of Brendon's cock, and then kisses his thigh.

Brendon breathes hard through his nose, slides his fingers into Spencer's hair and says, "I guess breakfast can wait."

Spencer smiles against Brendon's thigh and takes Brendon's cock into his mouth, sucking until Brendon calls out his name.

 

Brendon disappears after breakfast, holes up in their music room, and Spencer doesn't see him for days. He doesn't _like_ it, really, but Spencer gives him a wide berth anyway, figuring that if Brendon wants his help, he'll ask for it.

Haley calls on the fourth day of Brendon's seclusion. "I'm graduating next week," she says.

Spencer smiles and stretches out on his and Brendon's bed. "I heard rumor of something like that," Spencer says.

Haley says, "You should come out and see me. We can drive down to Santa Cruz and lust after beach houses."

Haley's been in California for four years, and Spencer suddenly feels old. It doesn't seem that long ago that he was sitting on a bus getting to know her through text messages and long-distance phone calls. Spencer realizes he's almost a quarter of a century old, and if the band doesn't get back together, he's not sure what he's going to do with the rest of his life.

"That sounds like fun, actually," Spencer says.

"Graduation is Saturday. You should come, bring Brendon too," she says.

Spencer listens for bitterness or insincerity, but it isn't there. It hasn't been there for a long time, and Spencer's still grateful the the two of them were able to salvage their friendship out of the rubble of their failed romance.

"I'll come out," Spencer says. "Brendon's working, but I'll ask him."

He and Haley talk for another half hour about absolutely nothing, and when Spencer finally hangs up, he wishes he'd come up with more to say. He has absolutely no idea what he's going to do with the rest of his day.

 

California is beautiful, and Haley looks beautiful in it. They're on the beach, both their pants rolled up around their calves. "Do you think you'll stay here?" Spencer asks.

Haley shakes her head and tucks her hair behind her ear. "I would love to, but it's too expensive," she says.

Spencer nods. "Someday I'm going to move here and buy a house on the beach. You can be my roommate," Spencer says.

Haley's quiet, her head resting on her knees. When Spencer glances over she's staring at him openly. "You have a roommate," she says softly.

Spencer's eyes widen a little and he stammers, "No... I didn't mean..." Spencer sighs and starts again. "I was just talking. It's one of those fantasies that won't ever really happen."

Haley blinks and says, "Why not?"

Spencer doesn't know if he should be saying this to her, but apparently his mouth moves faster than his brain. "Brendon," he says. "He wouldn't leave Vegas."

Spencer thinks about that as he and Haley fall silent again, both of them looking out at the waves rolling in. Spencer loves Vegas, but he's always liked the road better. There isn't anything holding him there the way it holds Brendon, or even Ryan. Spencer figures it has something to do with his parents, his family; he doesn't feel like he has unfinished business there.

Haley falls backward, stretching her arms out over her head and digging her toes into the sand. Spencer lies down too, turning until he's propped up on his elbow facing her. She's got her eyes closed, and Spencer doesn't know how much time passes. The waves are soothing, and Haley's eyes move rapidly beneath her eyelids, her breathing coming steady and even, so that Spencer thinks she must have fallen asleep.

"You could ask him," she says, so suddenly that Spencer startles. She doesn't open her eyes.

Spencer swallows and swallows, his throat suddenly dry and tight, until he finally says, "What if he says no?"

Haley opens her eyes then, soft brown, her pupils pinpricks against the sun. "Then I guess you'd have to stay in Vegas," she says. She looks sad, torn, like she's biting her tongue to keep from saying more.

Spencer looks out at the water, the blue sky that stretches on and on into forever, and he doesn't feel free.

 

It's late on Sunday when Spencer gets home. Brendon's car isn't in the driveway, but the porch light is on. It's not out of the ordinary, anyway; Sunday is Urie family fun day, and Brendon adores spending time with his nieces and nephews.

Spencer dumps his bag in the hallway and contemplates unpacking it until he decides to go to his parents' tomorrow and do laundry there. His mom likes him to come. She'll make him lunch and prod him into helping her haul mulch and dirt for her gardens. In return he can usually guilt her into washing all his clothes for him.

There's a new case of Corona in the fridge, and Spencer helps himself to one, goes into the living room and turns on the TV. He goes through the menu selection twice, doesn't feel like late-night talk shows or procedural cop dramas, so he finishes his beer and heads up to his room.

It's not really late enough for bed, but Spencer stretches out anyway, all of his clothes still on, his feet still in his shoes hanging off the end of the bed. He's not going to sleep yet, but he closes his eyes for a little bit anyway.

Spencer wakes up to the feel of his shoes being taken off his feet. There's no light in the room, but he can feel a hand wrapped loosely around his ankle as Brendon slides the shoe off his left foot.

"Hey," Spencer says, his voice scratchy from sleep. "What time is it?"

"Not too late," Brendon says softly. "A little after eleven, I think."

Spencer nods even though Brendon probably can't see him. "I guess I fell asleep," Spencer says, more to himself than to Brendon. He hadn't really felt that tired. It was more bored, restless, and now he's lost two hours when he could have been doing something productive.

Brendon crawls onto the bed, slides an arm across Spencer's chest, and leans in for a kiss. Spencer kisses him back, warm and slow and lazy-mouthed. He can feel heat building in his gut, down low where it settles and burns brighter with every languid stroke of Brendon's tongue.

Brendon's fingers find the hem of Spencer's shirt in the dark, sliding under to touch Spencer's stomach. His muscles clench and move under his skin involuntarily. Brendon touches lightly, just shy of tickling, and Spencer shivers when his hand moves up and he scratches across Spencer's nipple.

"Too many clothes," Spencer says against Brendon's mouth. Brendon moves then, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to strip off his shirt and start on his jeans. Spencer follows his lead, lifting his hips to shove his pants off into a heap at the end of the bed. Once they're off, he goes for his shirt, but Brendon's suddenly there, pulling on Spencer's shirt, and together they somehow manage to get it off without getting too tangled up in it.

Brendon pushes him back down, and they roll a little until Brendon is sprawled on top, warm and naked. He presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along Spencer's neck. It feels good, but Spencer's skin itches, feels dry and stretched, and Spencer wants to move, to be in charge of making something happen.

He grabs Brendon by the hip and the shoulder and pulls him up until their mouths come together again, and there's nothing lazy about _this_ kiss. Spencer kisses Brendon so hard he thinks their lips might bruise from the force, and Brendon is right there with him, pressing back, biting sharp and needy into Spencer's lower lip.

Spencer rolls them until Brendon is underneath him: small, but sturdy and strong and willing to take Spencer's weight pushing him down into the mattress. Spencer sucks lightly on the underside of Brendon's neck, not enough to mark him for long, but enough to make Spencer feel substantial, connected.

Brendon moans and thrusts his hips up. It makes their cocks slide together, and Spencer grunts, sinks his teeth into the side of Brendon's neck.

Brendon says, "Spencer," and slides his fingers into Spencer's hair and tugs until their mouths come back together, needy and messy. "Missed you, missed you," Brendon mumbles between kisses.

Spencer kisses Brendon harder before he rolls off to dig the lube out of the bedside drawer. Spencer still feels unsettled, like something is trying to claw its way out of him. His hands are shaking when he finally gets the cap open and squeezes the bottle on his fingers. He wants to be _inside_ Brendon right now, and he doesn't waste any time. He goes in fast with his index finger, sinks it in past the second knuckle, and crooks it upward until Brendon moans and bows his spine up off the bed.

Brendon's mouth is open -- short labored breaths pushing out past his lips -- interspersed with these beautiful little whimpers that send a bolt of lust right to Spencer's gut. Spencer's entire body feels fevered and his finger isn't enough. He knows the second one won't be enough, even as he pushes it in along side the first.

Brendon's tight -- always tight -- but he likes the burn and stretch, too. Spencer scissors his fingers as best he can, even as Brendon's fingers dig hard into his shoulders.

"Spencer," Brendon says desperately, and Spencer feels his cock get impossibly harder, his mind stuck like a broken record on _now, now, now_.

"Okay, okay," Spencer says.

Brendon's bucking up underneath him, his feet on the bed by Spencer's knees. Spencer pulls his fingers free and uses both his hands hooked under Brendon's knees to fold him practically in half. The head of Spencer's cock slides along the crease of Brendon's ass, and Brendon moans again, says, "Please, Spencer. Oh, _please_."

Spencer's almost blind with how much he wants to be inside Brendon. His lust is riding so close to anger that he can't think beyond the need to have Brendon, to be everywhere at once. He pushes hard on Brendon's knees and Brendon lets him hook one leg over Spencer's shoulder, the other he hooks around Spencer's side so that his foot is resting in the small of Spencer's back.

Spencer uses his free hand to guide his cock, and he pushes in, one hard thrust, until he's as close as he can be.

They're both sweating. Spencer wishes Brendon had turned on the bedside lamp so that Spencer could see him properly. It doesn't really matter, because Spencer knows what he looks like, but it never gets old; it's never something Spencer thinks he could get tired of seeing, Brendon spread out and strung out and clinging tight to Spencer's shoulders.

"I love you," Brendon says as Spencer works his hips in slow, short thrusts.

Spencer's heart trips fast in his chest, and he kisses along Brendon's jaw in answer, fucks his tongue into Brendon's mouth until Brendon is kissing him back, and still it's not enough. Spencer uses both his hands to hold Brendon to the bed, even though Brendon's not trying to go anywhere.

"It's not enough," Spencer pants against Brendon's lips, and Brendon stiffens beneath him suddenly. It takes Spencer's fizzled brain a moment to realize what he just said, and no, _no_. It pisses him off that Brendon can even think that after all these years. "No, Brendon" Spencer says, and he puts Brendon's arms above his head and pins him there, his hips going faster, his cock fucking Brendon just the way Brendon likes it. "I can't get close enough," Spencer whines, kissing Brendon's mouth again.

Brendon must get it then, because his entire body relaxes. It's almost like he's handing himself over to Spencer, and Spencer takes him, because he can, because Brendon is _his_. They both get a sloppy rhythm going, their mouths clinging together and Spencer's hands wrapped around Brendon's wrists, Brendon's entire body pinned to the bed by Spencer's weight. There isn't much room to move like this, but they make do.

Spencer comes first, rides out his orgasm with erratic thrusts, and feels Brendon come between them just a few seconds before Spencer collapses on top of him.

He knows he must be heavy, but Brendon doesn't move, both of them coming down together until Brendon turns one of his wrists, which are still clasped in Spencer's hand. Spencer lets him go, and Brendon runs lazy fingers through Spencer's hair. "I'm glad you're home," Brendon says, his words slurred with sleep.

"Me too," Spencer says, punctuating his words by kissing Brendon's skin right above where Spencer can still feel Brendon's heart beating rapidly. Spencer doesn't want to move, and Brendon doesn't seem to be in a hurry to get rid of him, so Spencer settles in and lets sleep pull him under.

 

Spencer's still sprawled out on top of Brendon when he wakes up in the morning. Brendon's already awake, his fingers tangled in Spencer's hair. "Hi," Spencer says.

Brendon smiles and kisses Spencer's forehead. "You're squashing me," Brendon says. "I'm suffocating right before your very eyes." Brendon widens his eyes in appeal and Spencer laughs and rolls them a little so that they're both lying on their sides facing each other.

Brendon tucks his face against Spencer's neck, and Spencer says, "What are you doing today? I was thinking we could just fuck around, stay in bed, maybe go see a movie later this afternoon."

Brendon pulls back and wrinkles his nose. "I wanted to work on some things today. Can I have a rain check?" Brendon asks.

Spencer feels disappointment curl in his gut, followed quickly by a rush of irritation. "You took yesterday off to see your family," Spencer says, and then closes his eyes, disgusted with how pathetic he sounds.

Brendon says, "Umm, okay. How about I knock off around four and we can go see a movie and maybe grab some dinner?"

Now Spencer's annoyed with the both of them, his disappointment turning to anger so quickly he can barely get a handle on it. Spencer rolls to the side of the bed and stands up, yanking on his jeans. "Forget it," he says pulling on a shirt that's been tossed on the floor. It doesn't smell very good, but Spencer doesn't really care at this point. "Don't do me any fucking favors."

Brendon sits up, eyes worried, and bites his bottom lip. "I... Okay, no. We can spend the day together. Just let me get dressed."

Spencer's never actually wanted to hit any of his band members before. Even after Brendon broke his heart a million years ago and he felt angry pretty much all the time, he never wanted to actually hurt him. It's kind of scary, and Spencer really wants to just get the fuck away and cool off before he says or does something unforgivable. Brendon hasn't even really _done_ anything to warrant this kind of reaction, and Spencer knows it.

"I'm going to Ryan's," Spencer says. "Do what you want." He can hear Brendon scrambling to get dressed, calling his name, but all he can think about is getting out and getting away. He grabs his keys off the kitchen counter and heads out the door.

His cell phone starts ringing before he's even off his street. He turns the phone off and throws it in the passenger seat. Spencer flexes his hands on his steering wheel and wars with himself about turning around. They don't fight often, and the angry part of Spencer's brain tells him it's because he usually just lets Brendon have his way. He steps on the gas and determinably does not think about going back again.

He just lets himself into Ryan's house, because they passed the point of needing permission from each other years and years ago. Ryan's on the phone in the living room, Jude sleeping in a car seat at his feet. "He just walked in," Ryan says. "Yeah. One of us will call."

Ryan hangs up and stares at Spencer. He cocks his head to the side and says, "Brendon," as he sets his cell phone on the table.

Spencer nods and sits down next to Ryan. "Sometimes I really hate him," Spencer says.

Ryan leans over and rests his head on Spencer's shoulder. "Wouldn't life be so much easier if we could make that true whenever we wanted?"

Spencer closes his eyes and says, "Fuck it. Entertain me or something."

They watch _Goonies_ and _Lost Boys_ and are half way through _Labyrinth_ when Keltie gets home. The two of them share a look that makes Spencer smile, silent communication that has Keltie smiling brightly and saying, "Give me that baby," as she plucks Jude out of Ryan's lap.

Ryan drags him outside and they smoke a joint together and watch the sunset. "Time to talk to me, Spencer Smith," Ryan says blowing out the smoke he's been holding in his chest.

Spencer wipes his hand across his face and takes the joint from Ryan. Spencer takes a hit, sighs out the smoke and says, "Sometimes I really hate the way he makes me feel."

Ryan nods just as the sliding glass door opens and Keltie comes out with two beers. "Don't say I never do anything for you," she says setting the beers on the table between them and leaning over to kiss Ryan on the mouth. She turns and kisses Spencer's cheek on her way back inside.

"What, no dinner?" Ryan calls after her, and Spencer turns in time to see her flip him off.

Spencer laughs and says, "You're a lucky bastard, Ryan."

"It's true," Ryan says opening both beers and handing one over to Spencer. "Now, we have beer and weed and fresh air. Share with me, my friend. How does he make you feel?"

Spencer stalls, scratches the back of his neck, and wonders why this feels like a betrayal. It's not like he hasn't talked with Ryan about Brendon before. "It's... He doesn't want to spend time with me, and then when I think that, I feel like some pathetic whiner, and that makes me kind of want to punch the both of us in the face."

Ryan says, "So, what have you been up to for the last month?"

"Huh?" Spencer says.

"Well, Jon's off doing whatever Jons do in Chicago, and Brendon's working on solo stuff. I'm writing music and changing diapers and hoping I'm not screwing my kid up as badly as my parents screwed me up. What are you doing, Spence?"

Spencer thinks about his blue bathroom. He thinks about his drum kit, trapped in their music room with Brendon. He hasn't touched it in weeks. He thinks about Haley and miles of sand and ocean and sky. "I want to buy a house in Santa Cruz," Spencer says.

Ryan blinks and says, "You've been talking about that for years. If you still want it, you should do it."

Spencer does want it. He remembers the first time he ever saw it. He was seven and his entire family went to San Francisco on vacation. Spencer stepped into the sand and it was like coming home after being away for too long, warm and familiar and beautiful in that comforting way home is.

When he got back to Vegas, he went and got Ryan, and they looked it up together on the atlas Spencer's dad kept in his office. Spencer had asked Ryan to go with him then, back before he understood how friendships change. It just never occurred to him at seven that Ryan wouldn't always go wherever Spencer went.

"I want Brendon to go with me," Spencer says.

Ryan says, "Did he say he wouldn't?"

Spencer isn't a pessimist, but he doesn't always see the silver lining to things either. Sometimes there isn't always good to overshadow the bad. Sometimes shit is just the way it is, and Spencer has learned to just take what he can get. Brendon's been a really good teacher. "I haven't asked him," Spencer says.

"So ask him," Ryan says.

Spencer nods and says, "And when he says no?"

Ryan looks over angrily then and slaps his beer onto the table with a loud thunk. "Then fucking go without him," Ryan snaps.

Spencer says, "Ryan, I--" before Ryan stands up and cuts him off.

"I need you to listen to me now, and don't interrupt because sometimes I actually know what I'm talking about," Ryan says.

Spencer says, "Sure, okay."

"I spent the first twenty years of my life being really miserable," Ryan says. "I don't think I wanted to be, but I didn't know how to be happy. After my father died... It took me some time, but I realized all those years I spent blaming him for all the shitty things in my life didn't do me any damn good."

Ryan sounds sad and regretful, and Spencer really wants to get up and give him a hug. When he goes to get out of his chair, Ryan snaps, "Sit. I'm not done yet."

Spencer sits but he says, "You don't have to do this, Ryan."

"I _realized_ ," Ryan continues, ignoring Spencer's words, "that I wasted a lot of time I could have been living. I wasted time I could have used to fix things with my father. After I buried him, I swore I wasn't going to waste any more time ever again. That the next time I saw something I wanted, I was going to get it, win it, take it. I promised myself I was going to be happy."

Spencer smiles and says, "And then you met Keltie."

Ryan smiles too and says, "Yeah, and she makes things better, but in the end, I had to be happy with me first."

Spencer says, "I've wanted him for so long, I forgot I ever wanted anything else. I honestly can't remember the last time I did something that wasn't to make somebody else happy."

Ryan winces and says, "Spencer," and his face is paler than Spencer's ever seen it.

"What?" Spencer asks.

Ryan shrugs and says, "Sometimes I feel like I dragged you into this when it wasn't really what you wanted."

Spencer thinks about that. He can't imagine what else he would have done if he hadn't drummed for the band, but even at seventeen he knew it wasn't the same for him as it was for Ryan. "I didn't want anything more than I wanted to be with you and Brendon," Spencer says truthfully.

"What do you want now?" Ryan asks.

Spencer says, "I want to move to Santa Cruz. I want to buy my dream house, and lounge on the beach and figure out what the hell I want to do with the rest of my life. I want to ask Brendon to go with me."

"You should do that," Ryan says.

Spencer does stand up then, and when he wraps his arms around Ryan, Ryan hugs him back. "I think I will," Spencer says.

Ryan says, "Good."

It's not like Spencer can randomly approach his boyfriend of five-plus years and say, "So, I'm randomly moving to California, and I think you should come with me." Spencer's not sure quite how to do it, but he's positive that's probably not the best approach.

Instead he says, "I need you to make time for me every now and then."

Brendon stares wide-eyed from the couch and says, "I get caught up in my own head sometimes. I know it isn't fair, but if you just remind me now and again, I'll try to be better about it."

Spencer nods, but he knows the conversation isn't anywhere near finished, the situation not anywhere near fixed. He figures he can hash all of that out when he figures out how to tell Brendon about California. He doesn't really know when that will be, but it's not happening tomorrow, so Spencer figures it can wait.

He gets a realtor and starts looking online, anyway. The houses cost a fortune; Spencer's not hurting for money, but he's not Jay-Z either. He is, however, a frugal sort of person (minus the shoes), and he's got enough money for a decent-sized down payment. He's pretty sure he can get a loan, too, but he probably needs a job for that. He ends up calling Patrick because the idea of talking to Pete, while pleasant, is also kind of exhausting.

"Hey," Patrick says, and he sounds either frazzled or confused. Considering his busy schedule and the fact that Spencer rarely ever calls him, it's probably a little bit of both.

"Hi," Spencer says. "So, I was wondering if you had any suggestions for what a semi-retired drummer might do for a job while the rest of his band goes out and has babies and makes solo albums."

Patrick says, "Does this semi-retired drummer have any skills worth mentioning?"

Spencer laughs and says, "He's been known to recognize talent in other young up-and-comers. He has excellent organizational skills, and I hear he plays a really mean cowbell."

Patrick says, "I'll talk to Pete. I'm sure someone somewhere has use for a guy that knows his way around a cowbell."

Spencer laughs again and says, "Thanks."

 

Spencer knocks softly on the door to their music studio, but he can hear Brendon at the drums, so he doesn't wait for an answer before he pushes the door open. Brendon's at Spencer's kit, his hands wrapped around a pair of sticks, and his hair clinging to his neck in a sweaty mess. It's getting long again after more than a month of not touring, and Spencer knows it'll get longer still before Brendon bothers to get it cut.

He waits in the doorway until Brendon notices him and puts the sticks down. It's eerily quiet once the cymbals fade out and Spencer says, "Hey," just to fill the silence up with sound.

Brendon smiles and shakes his head, sending drops of sweat flying out. "Hi," Brendon says. "Did you need me?"

It's on the tip of Spencer's tongue to say _yes, yes_ because it's still like that for him with Brendon. Even approaching almost a decade of knowing him; the wanting him, the _needing_ him, hasn't really changed.

Instead he says, "I'm going to L.A. this weekend to sit down with Pete about a job."

Brendon looks surprised. "What kind of a job?" he asks.

Spencer shrugs. "We were going to talk about it, but probably A&R stuff."

Brendon looks down at the drum kit, runs his fingers through his hair, and stands up. He rolls his shoulders and asks, "Have you gotten plane tickets yet?"

Spencer shakes his head. "Pete's people are taking care of it. They're supposed to e-mail me the info later today."

Brendon says, "I think I'll go with you, if that's okay."

Spencer's heart speeds up a little, even if some jaded part of his brain is telling him Brendon's only doing it because he thinks Spencer is still mad. But whatever Brendon's reasons, it's an olive branch of sorts, and Spencer would be an asshole not to take it. He smiles, says, "I'll call Pete."

Brendon nods and walks around the kit. He's covered in sweat, but Spencer lets him wrap his arms around Spencer's neck anyway. Brendon kisses him lightly over and over, just a small brush of lips, and Spencer puts his hands on Brendon's hips and drags him closer.

They stay like that for a long time, standing near the door with their mouths touching until Brendon tilts his head and swipes his tongue along Spencer's lower lip. Spencer lets himself be kissed, lets his tongue meet Brendon's half way, until he feels his blood start humming under his skin.

Brendon pulls away finally and says, "I love you, you know?"

Spencer does know. He knows Brendon loves him, he just doesn't know why it's not enough to make him happy anymore. "I love you, too," Spencer says, because it's the truth, even if Spencer is starting to feel like something is really, really wrong between them.

"You should call Pete about a plane ticket for me while I shower, and then we should go out and do something," Brendon says.

Spencer says, "Okay," as Brendon kisses his chin, messy and quick, and then lets him go to head upstairs for a shower. He knows he should be happy that Brendon's making time for him, but he can't help feeling like he forced Brendon's hand. He can't help feeling like he's just one more obligation Brendon has to fulfill, like he's a burden, an afterthought. It sits ugly in Spencer's stomach, and Spencer doesn't know how to make it go away.

 

Pete still knows how to throw a party despite the fact that he's a thirty-something, married father of two, with a third on the way. Pete's house is loud and full of people and alcohol, and Spencer's starting to get a headache.

"We're celebrating, Spence," Pete says when he sees him rubbing his temple. "Good friends, new jobs, new babies." He smiles over at Ashlee then, and she smiles back as she lays a protective hand over her still very, very flat stomach.

"Congratulations, by the way," Spencer shouts.

Ashlee says, "Thank you," and she's beaming again, skin flushed a pretty pink that Spencer knows has nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with being really, really happy.

Something loud crashes from some other room, and Pete smiles, almost like he's proud that someone is taking the initiative to get the party really rolling by destroying his house. "I should go see what that's about," he says as he ambles off toward the noise. Spencer thinks he's just as likely to join in as he is to stop whatever is going on.

Spencer can still see Brendon in the corner. He's been drinking pretty steadily since they got here, and now he's got Gabe hanging all over him as further encouragement. Spencer's really glad they're staying here; the mere thought of hauling Brendon into a cab and then up the floors of a hotel is exhausting.

"He's having fun," Ashlee says, and Spencer startles a little. He forgot she was there for a moment.

Spencer says, "Yeah."

Ashlee grabs Spencer's hand and says, "Come with me."

They head out of the room and down a hall, and then on to another hall until Ashlee opens the door to a large room with various instruments and sound equipment. "Stay here for a second. I'll be back," she says shoving him inside and closing the door.

Spencer wanders around the room, fiddles with the drum kit and the keyboard a bit until the door opens and Ashlee comes back inside. She walks over and hands Spencer the bottle of water she has in her hand, along with four Advil.

"This room is mostly soundproof," she says, and it's only then that Spencer realizes she's right. The room is blissfully quiet.

Spencer takes the Advil and says, "Thanks."

Ashlee shrugs. "Mom instincts," she says. "You okay?"

Spencer says, "Headache."

Ashlee purses her lips and looks at him for so long that Spencer starts to feel uncomfortable. Finally she says, "You can hang in here for as long as you want."

"Thanks," Spencer says, as Ashlee nods and turns back toward the door.

She pauses with her hand on the knob and says, "I know we're not super-close or anything, but if you ever wanted an unbiased ear, I've got two."

Spencer nods even though she's not looking at him, and he'd really love to get an unbiased opinion about... things. But, if talking to Ryan about Brendon felt like a betrayal, he can only imagine how talking to Ashlee about him would feel. "I'll remember that," he says, "but I'm good right now."

Ashlee says, "Okay," and leaves him alone.

 

Brendon flies home a few days later, but Spencer stays on another week, ironing out details and signing papers. He has a job now. He has a job that's totally different from what he's been doing for the last eight years of his life. He feels excited about something other than his band and his music and Brendon for the first time in a long time.

Pete says, "Ryan called. He says you have to come home. Apparently Jon's in town and your presence is required."

Spencer finds it amusing and strangely endearing that Ryan basically called Spencer's boss to see if it was okay for him to leave. Spencer tells Pete, "You don't have to tell me twice," as he picks up his cell phone to make flight arrangements.

Brendon doesn't answer his cell or the house phone, so Spencer ends up calling Ryan. Ryan picks him up from the airport with Jon in tow.

"Brendon is MIA," Ryan says, slinging one of Spencer's bags over his shoulder.

Spencer's eyes linger on the baggage carousel, spinning round and round, littered with bags in various shapes, sizes, and colors. Spencer wonders how it's possible to fit so much of someone into such a small space.

"He's probably working," Spencer says quietly.

Ryan says, "Yeah, but Jon's here," like that explains everything, and it does, or it did.

Spencer doesn't know how to judge anything anymore. He feels raw and open and wrong, like a chewed-through wire that someone put back together with electrical tape. He thinks a month ago -- maybe even a week ago -- this wouldn't have been a big deal. Now, it feels like something Brendon is doing on purpose. It feels like Brendon is leaving them all behind, Spencer most of all.

Spencer says, "Drop me at the house. I'll get him, and we'll come over."

Jon's been quiet the entire time. Spencer realizes he hasn't even said hello, so he curves his arm around Jon's waist as they walk toward the airport exit.

"Hi, there, Jon Walker," Spencer says.

Jon gives him a strained smile and then tilts his head slightly, resting it against Spencer's shoulder. Spencer rubs his cheek over the top of Jon's head and cherishes the moment. Spencer has always liked being needed.

 

Brendon's car isn't in the driveway when they pull up, so Spencer just throws his bags in the foyer and gets back into Ryan's car. They go out and get drunk, just the three of them. Jon's withdrawn and quiet, and Ryan keeps looking at him like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Is anyone going to clue me in?" Spencer asks.

Jon looks at Ryan and shrugs, signaling the waitress for another beer.

Ryan says, "Cassie and Jon broke up."

Spencer knew they were having problems, but he hadn't realized they were this bad. Cassie's been a part of Jon's life for longer than the band, and Spencer feels like a shitty friend for not being more aware.

"I'm sorry," Spencer says. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Jon shakes his head and swigs his beer. Spencer lets it go, because Jon will come to them when he's ready. Jon knows he can always come to them.

Spencer doesn't know how long they drink, but it's a long time. Long enough that Spencer's really glad he's not driving. He calls two cabs for the three of them, and they sit together, shoulder to shoulder on the curb while they wait for them to show up.

Jon says, "Growing up, whenever my dad would go away on business or go to work or even just go down the street to the store, my mom would always tell him this quote. I don't remember who it's by, but she would say, 'If you aren't gone too long, I'll wait here for you all of my life.'"

Ryan says, "It's Oscar Wilde."

Jon smiles sadly and nods. "Yeah, that's it, Oscar Wilde."

Spencer says, "Jon?" He doesn't know what he should say, but Jon looks sadder than Spencer's ever seen him, making Spencer feel helpless and lost.

Jon curls into a little ball on the pavement between them, his knees tucked up to his chest and his head on Spencer's leg. "She stopped waiting for me," Jon says.

Spencer doesn't think there's anything to say to that, so he puts his fingers in Jon's hair and waits for the cabs to show up.

 

Spencer gets home late and feeling pretty drunk. Brendon's car is in the drive, and despite his inebriated state, it doesn't escape Spencer's attention that Brendon didn't bother to call him. Spencer fumbles with his keys and the lock a few times before he finally gets it right and gets through the door.

The lights in the living room are on, and when Spencer passes by, he sees Brendon, head bowed and hands clasped, sitting on the couch.

"Honey, I'm home," Spencer says bitterly, leaning against the door jamb.

Brendon's head snaps up, and he narrows his eyes. "Have fun?" he asks.

"Sure, tons," Spencer says, and then because he's feeling a little mean, he adds, "Jon and Cassie broke up."

Brendon inhales sharply, and Spencer watches with a little satisfaction when Brendon looks away guiltily. "I didn't know," he says.

Spencer pushes off the door frame and comes into the room. "You would have," he says. "If you had bothered to answer your phone."

Brendon turns back then, launching himself off the couch and pushing into Spencer's space. "I have been answering the phone. All week in fact," he spits. "Why just this morning I got a call from your _realtor_ in _California_. It seems she's found the perfect place for you."

Spencer doesn't know what to say. This wasn't supposed to go down like this. He was supposed to have more time, so that he could think of what to say -- of how to word this -- so that when he goes, Brendon will come with him

"I-" Spencer starts.

The corners of Brendon's eyes look shiny and wet. "You're leaving me," he says.

Spencer doesn't think he's ever heard Brendon sound like this in his entire life. There's no life behind his words, and for as long as Spencer's known him, of all the things Brendon can be, _alive_ has always been the greatest of them all. Spencer feels like he's being pressed, like his organs are shifting and coming together, like his ribs are cracking.

"I was going to ask you to come with me," Spencer says.

He knows it sounds lame, and the part of his brain that's been getting louder lately also screams; _too late, too late, too late_.

Brendon huffs, running his fingers through his hair. "How was this supposed to work, exactly?" he asks. "You buy your house, in the place you've always wanted to live, and you get everything your way, and I'm just supposed to follow along?"

Spencer says, "Well, I've been doing it for years, and that's worked pretty well for you so far."

Spencer doesn't think Brendon could look more shocked if Spencer had just gone ahead and slapped him. Spencer wants to take it back now that it's out there, but it's how he feels, and he's so tired of hiding it.

"You think I have everything my way?" Brendon asks.

"Don't you?" Spencer counters. "We live in a house we bought together, in our hometown, so you can be close to your family. A family that you see whenever you want, but I hardly know, even though we've been living here together for going on five years. Do you know what that's like? To be hidden and kept secret and separate from this whole other part of your life?"

Brendon says, "I'm not going to apologize for that. You knew how it was going to be. You didn't come into this blind, Spencer. I never lied to you."

Spencer can't look at him. He can't look at Brendon's eyes, because he feels like his skin is barely holding him together. He feels like he's unraveling on the inside and any moment Brendon will be able to see it. "No," Spencer whispers. "You never lied."

Brendon says, "You said you could do this. You said you wanted this enough... You wanted me enough."

Brendon's voice cracks, sharp and high, like Spencer hasn't heard it since they were teenagers. He gets up and takes two steps forward, closing his eyes when Brendon takes two back. Spencer thinks he really is going to fly apart if he doesn't put his hands on Brendon, so he keeps going.

Brendon backs himself all the way to the living room wall, and Spencer stands in front of him, reaching out tentatively to put his hands on Brendon's hips. He feel s a little better just from that contact, and he wonders wildly how he's going to do this without him. He hasn't been without any of them in a very long time.

"Brendon," Spencer says gently. "I can't. I just can't anymore."

Brendon leans in and buries his face against Spencer's neck. Spencer feels his skin get wet, and he feels like the world's biggest piece of scum, but he can't take it back. He _can't_.

Brendon says, "I don't know what you want me to do," muffled and strained against Spencer's skin.

Spencer steps back, and Brendon looks up, their eyes locking and holding for an endless measure. Spencer says, "I want you to choose me. Just this once I want you to think about us first, and just let everything else go."

Brendon closes his eyes and takes in a shaky breath. Spencer feels desperate. He feels like he's losing. "Please," he says. "I told you once that it wasn't home without you, and I've followed you. Follow me now."

Brendon swallows hard. He says, "I'm scared, Spencer."

Spencer's not sure he'll ever understand this part of Brendon anymore than he understands it in Ryan. Spencer's never been scared of the people he loves. He never thought that was something he should be thankful for, but he is now. He sees things differently now.

"I'm right here," Spencer says. "I know I didn't do this right, but I'm asking you now. Come to California with me?"

Brendon shakes his head, eyes wide and panicked. He steps into Spencer's space, curling his fingers into Spencer's shoulders so hard it hurts. "I can't," he says. He kisses Spencer's mouth hard, scraping his teeth along Spencer's lip as he breaks away. "I can't."

He pushes, and Spencer takes a step back. Spencer lets him step away. Spencer lets him go.

 

Spencer tries to do some work. He tries not to wonder what Brendon is doing or where he's gone or if he's okay. He tries not to think about the fact that Brendon went out, and he's probably not coming back -- not to stay, anyway.

Not thinking about it doesn't really work. Spencer can't concentrate, and he's still a little woozy from all the beers he had with Jon and Ryan. It's late and Spencer's really, really tired, but he's not sure he can sleep. He's not sure he can go to their bedroom and sleep by himself, even though he's done it a hundred times before, even though he's been doing it more often than not for months.

He lies down on the couch and thinks about going upstairs and getting undressed. He wonders if he can slide under the covers and pretend like Brendon's just out of town or over at his sister's for the night. Spencer touches his fingertip to his wrist and counts off the beats -- one, two, three, four -- counting until his eyes get heavy, until he can't remember what number came before. Spencer figures it doesn't matter anyway. It's an endless number and losing the count won't change that. He starts over again at one, two, three, four, and falls asleep counting.

He wakes up before the sun and calls Ryan. He knows it's cruel, what with Ryan getting drunk the night before and also having an infant, but if Spencer hasn't earned the right to call Ryan at four in the morning, he doesn't know who has.

Ryan's phone goes straight to voicemail, so Spencer gets up and brushes his teeth and grabs his keys off the entry table. He stops by Starbucks and gets four coffees as a peace offering, just in case he accidentally wakes up Jon and Keltie, too.

He pulls in to Ryan's driveway, coffee cups balanced precariously in the passenger seat, and almost loses the whole tray when he slams on his brakes hard. Brendon's car is parked at the curb, and Ryan is leaning against it in a white t-shirt, pajama pants and bare feet.

Ryan pushes off the car and walks to Spencer's. Spencer rolls down his window, and then twists his hands around his steering wheel.

"I brought you coffee," Spencer says.

Ryan nods and says, "Put the car in park, Spencer."

He walks around to the passenger side and opens the door while Spencer puts the car in park. Ryan picks up the coffees and slides into the car, placing them back on his lap before fastening his seat belt. Spencer thinks it's probably more from habit than an actual desire to go somewhere.

Ryan says, "Do you want to drive around?"

Spencer doesn't know what he wants to do. Spencer doesn't know what he wants.

"Why is he here?" Spencer asks.

Ryan asks, "Why are you here?"

Spencer says, "You're my best friend."

Ryan looks at Spencer hard, almost like he's disappointed in him. "Yeah," he says. " _Yeah_."

Spencer bites the inside of his lip hard enough that he thinks he might end up with a blister. There's a panicked part of Spencer's brain that wonders if they're all going to leave him, but louder than that is the part of him that's telling him Ryan is his. Ryan will always be his, and nothing is ever going to change that.

"I get you," Spencer says.

Ryan looks confused, so Spencer clarifies, "In the divorce. I get you."

Spencer tries to keep it light, and he guesses it works a little, because Ryan snorts and rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. "You both get me," he says.

Spencer says, "He left me."

Ryan looks out the window, his eyes focused on a patch of fast moving clouds. He sips his coffee and hands Spencer one of the cups. "Funny," he says. "He said the same thing."

They get quiet after that. Spencer listens to the sounds; the early morning birds just starting to wake up and the chirping crickets just about to go to bed. He listens to Ryan breathe and tries to match him breath for breath -- inhale, exhale, inhale -- like Ryan is showing him how. Ryan reaches for his hand and squeezes it.

"What can I do?" Ryan asks. "I'll do whatever you need me to do."

Spencer says, "I'm going to California."

Ryan doesn't say anything. He nods and drinks his coffee and waits.

Spencer says, "Will you take care of him for me?"

"Yes," Ryan says. "Of course."

 

Spencer looks at seven houses and finds something wrong with all of them, but his first thought when he walks into the eighth is, _Brendon would love this view._ The realtor drones on about the neighborhood and the school district and the various amenities the house has to offer.

Spencer stares at the ocean through the large, arched windows in the living room. He watches two seagulls fight over some hard-won scrap of food. There's a boat on the horizon, tiny and white and rolling along with the waves. The sand is so white it's almost blinding.

"What do you think?" the realtor asks.

Spencer says, "This is it," as he turns from the window. "I'll take it."

The realtor beams and goes to get the paperwork out of her briefcase.

 

The first thing Spencer does is put together the music room. It's what he and Brendon did with their house in Vegas, and even though Spencer hasn't picked up sticks in months, he doesn't think to do it any differently this time around.

When the room is soundproofed and painted, Spencer methodically puts together his drum kit. It's the only substantial thing he brought with him, and even though there's an entire room full of instruments at the house in Vegas, this is the only one that belongs solely to _Spencer_. He feels better just putting his hands on it.

He gets it put together and sits and sits and sits, sticks in hand, and can't bring himself to play anything. He get frustrated, and he's tired, and he still hasn't fed the dogs yet, so he gets up and goes to the kitchen. Boba and Milo look miffed even though it's not that late, and Spencer pats their heads in apology as he pours food in to their bowls.

The house is quiet except for the dogs chomping on their food, and Spencer startles when his cell phone rings. It's a Vegas number, but it's not someone he has programmed in, and there's a moment of indecision -- his heart pounding in his ears -- before he flips the phone open and answers.

"Hello?" he says.

There's a moment of quiet on the other end before a woman says, "May I speak to Spencer?"

"Speaking," Spencer says, tersely.

"Hi," the woman says. "This is Kara... Brendon's sister."

Spencer's at a loss for words. He can count on two hands the number of times he's spoken to Brendon's sister. He can't think of any reason she could possibly have to call him unless something's happened to Brendon, and that thought sends his heart racing.

He can hear Kara breathing loudly on the other end of the phone, still waiting for Spencer to speak. Spencer takes a deep breath of his own and says, "Yes?"

"Look," Kara says. "I don't really know what happened, or why you moved, but I can tell that Brendon really misses you. Whatever fight you had... well I was hoping you could call him and talk to him."

Spencer suddenly has a violent urge to snap his phone shut. He's not sure how much Kara knows, but knowing Brendon and his relationship with his family, Spencer assumes it's not much. Of course, it's so typically Brendon to have everyone around him trying to fix his problems, that Spencer figures he shouldn't be all that surprised.

"He has my number," Spencer snaps.

He knows he's being rude, and that it's not really Kara's fault, but the person Spencer really wants to be angry at isn't here. That's sort of the whole damn problem.

Kara says, "I know. I stole it out of his phone this morning."

Spencer says, "Then I don't really know why we're having this conversation. Obviously we have nothing to say to one another."

"He's sorry," Kara says. "I'm sure that whatever he did to make you mad, he's sorry."

Spencer bites his tongue so hard that he's surprised he doesn't break the skin. "Not sorry enough to call me," he says. "He's twenty-five years old, Kara. Let him make his own apologies."

Kara laughs, and Spencer thinks if she's trying to break the tension, she's failing at it miserably.

"Just because he's twenty five, doesn't mean he's not a complete moron," she says. "I'm just trying to help fix things here."

"Maybe that's part of the problem," Spencer says angrily. "Let him clean up his own mess for once."

Spencer snaps his phone closed and paces across the room. He feels like steam in a pot -- like there's something building inside him -- and if it doesn't get out, he's going to explode. He wants to throw something. He wants to throw something hard, but he's standing in his empty kitchen, which is next to his empty living room, which connects to a hall that leads to two empty bedrooms.

Spencer sets his phone down on the counter and storms down the hall to the music room. He's got an entire house full of nothing and a drum set he can't bring himself to play. He closes the door, closes himself in, and screams and screams and screams. When that doesn't make him feel any better, he walks over and kicks his drums. He keeps kicking until he doesn't recognize them anymore.

 

Spencer calls Ryan.

"I killed my drum set," he says. "I just literally kicked the shit out of my drum set."

Ryan says, "Why did you do that?"

Spencer smiles and says, "I don't know. I hated it, I guess. You should come out and take a look. I bet you a hundred dollars I killed it better than that guitar you burned."

Ryan laughs and says, "I can't come out, Spence. Keltie has the flu, so I'm on Jude patrol, but if you wanted to come to Vegas I'm sure we could scrounge up some more instruments for you to assault."

Spencer feels a pang of regret, before he can shake it off. There was a time in their lives where they would have dropped anything to be there for each other, and Spencer is still getting used to the changes, to the shifts in priority. He's happy for Ryan though. Ryan's happy -- happier than Spencer ever thought he would be -- and Spencer doesn't want to be the kind of friend that would begrudge him that.

"Nah," Spencer says. "I'm good. Tell Keltie I hope she feels better."

"I will," Ryan says. "Oh, and call Jon. He misses you."

 

Spencer calls Jon. "I bought a house," he says, once they've gotten all the preliminary stuff out of the way.

Jon says, "So I hear."

There's a lot of background noise, making it almost impossible for Spencer to hear what Jon is saying. "Where are you?" he asks.

Jon says, "At my parents' house. My mom is yelling at us to come to dinner. I feel like I'm in high school again. I have a _curfew_."

Spencer laughs. He's relieved to find he still can after the last few weeks, and he suddenly misses Jon fiercely. "Come visit me," Spencer says. "You can sleep on my couch, and I'll let you stay out as late as you want."

Jon takes a turn laughing. He says, "Do you even have a couch?"

Spencer says, "I will by the time you get here."

 

Spencer picks Jon up from the airport, and they stop at a corner store on the way back to the house to pick up a case of beer. Jon buys Corona even though they both know he prefers Blue Moon.

Spencer puts the beer in the fridge before he gives Jon the grand tour. He still doesn't have much in the way of furniture, but he's getting there.

"It has potential," Jon says.

Spencer punches Jon's arm, lightly. "It's fucking amazing," he says.

Jon says, "Yeah," and goes to get them beers.

They get tipsy together sitting out on the back porch watching the beach. There's an old lady walking her dog, and she stops every so often and bends down to pick up a shell and inspect it. Spencer wonders what she's looking for, and if she'll ever find it.

"This really is fucking amazing," Jon says, breaking the comfortable silence they've got going.

Spencer leans against him, resting his head on Jon's shoulder. Jon puts his hand on Spencer's leg and pats him companionably.

Spencer says, "Yeah," and Jon sighs, squeezing Spencer's leg.

Jon says, "So, we should go out tomorrow and get you a new kit."

Spencer wants to be mad, but he kind of likes knowing that Ryan's looking out for him even if he can't be here himself.

Spencer says, "That would probably be good. Even though I don't know if I can even play anymore."

Jon says, "What are you doing here, Spence?"

Spencer turns his head until he's looking at Jon's profile. Jon looks like he might cry, which is something Spencer's never actually seen him do. He's not sure what to do, or even if there is anything to do, but he's glad to be here just in case. He's glad to have a friend.

"I'm waiting," Spencer says.

Jon says, "For how long?" and Spencer says, "As long as it takes."

 

Spencer gets into a routine. He goes to shows, looking for bands to sign to Pete's empire. He sleeps past 10 o'clock every morning, eats breakfast when he should be having lunch, and takes the dogs for a walk after noon, when it's a little cooler outside.

The dogs like to race ahead, chasing birds and sniffing at spots that smell like dead fish or other dogs. Spencer likes the way the sand squishes between his toes when he walks close to the water. He lets the hems of his jeans get wet and rough and heavy. His hair falls in his face and whips around his head, so that he has to hold it back to keep it from hitting him in the eyes. He thinks about getting a haircut, but never quite gets around to it.

He spends a lot of time listening to music. He starts playing the drums again, using his spare time to slowly put the music room back togther. He looks through magazines at furniture and art and paint swatches, and thinks about finishing the house.

He spends a lot of time with Pete and Ashlee, which isn't something he ever thought he'd find himself doing. It turns out Pete's a pretty good father, and his kids are just about the cutest things Spencer has ever seen.

"Anybody thirsty?" Pete asks.

Both kids start jumping up and down and shouting. Ashlee pushes herself up off the couch, her belly leading the way. "I'll get it," Ashlee says, waving Pete back into his chair.

"You should stay off your feet," Pete says, blocking the doorway.

"I could kick you in your shin, and then I'd be off one of my feet," Ashlee says, smiling at Pete. "I'm pregnant, not sick."

Pete smiles back and asks, "Can you get your foot that high?"

Ashlee says, "I'd barely have to lift my foot at all, shorty."

They both hold out about three seconds before they start laughing. Spencer watches them bicker a bit longer before Pete says, "You want anything, Spencer?"

Spencer's pretty sure he looks like an idiot sitting in their living room, smiling at the two of them, but he doesn't care. He likes to see his friends happy. "Water," he says.

Ashlee says, "You two munchkins come help Mommy in the kitchen."

The kids get up and go running ahead down the hall, shrieking loudly.

Pete says, "You should show me what you have before they come back. We're going to have about a ten minute window before chaos descends upon us again."

They listen to a couple of demos, some of them more promising than others, but they both have a good feeling about two of the bands, and Spencer feels excited about something for the first time in a long time.

Ashlee comes back in with drinks, and the kids turn on the TV, filling the room with noise. Spencer watches them, whispering and giggling together.

Pete says, "Speaking of promising demos, Brendon's doing amazing things. I'm really excited about some of the stuff he's sent me."

Spencer's head whips around, wide-eyed. He doesn't know what to say, so he looks to Ashlee for help. She's too busy glaring daggers at Pete to notice.

Pete says, "He hasn't sent me anything in a few weeks, though. It happens, writer's block can be a bitch."

Spencer feels like a piece of broken glass. Part of him doesn't want to know that Brendon's having problems; he doesn't want to think about Brendon sitting in their house in Las Vegas, hurting. But there's another part of him that's starving for any scrap of information he can get his hands on. All Ryan will ever tell him is that Brendon's doing fine, not that Spencer ever comes right out and asks him.

Spencer realizes that Pete's still waiting for some kind of response, and that the room has gotten eerily quiet except for the noise from the TV.

"That's too bad," Spencer says quietly.

"Peter," Ashlee says, through gritted teeth.

Pete looks genuinely confused. "What?" he asks.

Ashlee rolls her eyes and says, "How's the new house, Spencer?"

Spencer sends her a look of thanks, and the two of them talk about the house.

Spencer says, "I have no idea what to do with it, honestly."

Ashlee smiles and says, "I can come out and take a look. We could go shopping, if you want."

Spencer finds himself strangely excited by the idea.

"Yeah," Spencer says. "That sounds like fun."

 

Spencer gets home late enough on Saturday night, that it's actually more early Sunday morning. He's surprisingly not tired, so he goes to his kit and plays _Fever_ all the way through, twice. He decides he still hates it, but it's more from unwanted memories now than just being sick to death of hearing it.

He's sweaty and the sun is just starting to peek over the horizon, so he grabs the dogs and heads out to the beach. He swims in his boxer shorts, letting the waves roll over his head until he can't breathe anymore, and he has to surface.

People are starting to wake up, and he knows some of his neighbors will be coming out soon to walk their dogs. He gets out and pulls on his jeans, working them up his wet legs and rolling the cuffs up, so he can walk without soaking them.

He walks until his calves burn, the dogs running here and there, jumping into the water and then shaking themselves dry near enough that Spencer gets pelted with droplets. He turns around and heads back. He says hello to everyone he passes and watches the water or the birds or the sand under his feet to keep his mind off the burning in his leg muscles.

The dogs run ahead. He can see them in the distance, running for the house, tripping across the sand in their sprint up the beach. Something small and grey comes shooting off the porch to meet them, and Boba and Milo dance around it, barking and sniffing.

Spencer yells, "Hey, sit," even though he's too far away to do anything about it. He starts jogging up the beach, and is half-way to the house when he realizes the grey thing is Dylan. His eyes fly up to the porch, his heart tripping even faster in his chest when he sees Brendon sitting on the steps.

Brendon must see him too, because he gets up, dusting the legs of his pants off as he steps off the wooden deck and onto the sand.

Spencer feels like he's walking through quicksand. It's slow and painful, and every step that takes him closer to Brendon makes him want to turn around and run. The dogs are still running and chasing and yipping happily at each other.

The wind is blowing strong today, making Brendon raise his voice when he says, "Hi."

Spencer doesn't know what he should say. He doesn't know why Brendon is here, and that is going to make all the difference.

"What are you doing here?" Spencer asks.

Brendon looks down at his feet. He looks Spencer in the face and says, "I told my parents about us."

Spencer's first instinct is to reach for Brendon, and his hand is already halfway from his body before he can think to stop himself. He lets it fall awkwardly back to his side. He says, "Are you okay?"

Brendon smiles sardonically, but he seems relaxed. "Yeah," he says. "It's going to be okay."

Spencer nods, and they fall silent. It's not -- this isn't anything Brendon couldn't have said over the phone, and Spencer's still not sure. Spencer doesn't know if he can handle any more bruises right now.

"But, what are you doing _here_ , Bren?" Spencer asks again.

Brendon licks his lips and shuffles his feet. He takes a step closer, close enough that he has to lean his head back slightly to look Spencer in the eye. He doesn't look away as he says, "I was hoping you would let me come home. That is... I was hoping you wanted me to come home."

Spencer thinks about all the places he's been. He thinks about buses and hotels and practice spaces. He thinks about their house in Vegas, and Ryan's place, and his parents' house in Summerlin. He thinks about the beach house, with its pretty view and its wood floors and its still mostly unused rooms.

He reaches out and pulls Brendon to him, their arms clinging, as Brendon buries his face against Spencer's chest. It's not perfect, but Spencer's never wanted perfect anyway. Spencer likes things that need time and attention and care.

Spencer buries his nose in Brendon's hair and holds on. He tips his head to the side, rubbing his cheek along the crown of Brendon's head and says, "I was waiting for you."


End file.
